


Invoke My Name

by multishep



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Drama, F/F, FangRai, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-19 04:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multishep/pseuds/multishep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lightning "The Spark" Farron is a rising boxing star on the continent of Cocoon, but what happens when she meets Fang; a Pulsian fist fighter from the streets of Gran Pulse?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A faint orange glow illuminated the bustling streets as the sun set behind the city’s illustrious skyscrapers, casting shadows upon the smaller structures of Eden’s outskirts. Oerba Yun Fang walked along the empty street, though she could still hear the chaos at the heart of Cocoon’s capital city humming in the background. Her ears still rang with the echoes of blaring horns and cacophony of deafening babbles as civilians, young and old alike, raced through the rush hour traffic, eager to return home after an exhausting day of work. After many hungry, sleepless nights in Eden’s industrial district, Fang’s unsuccessful attempts to find employment led her to test her luck on the quiet outskirts of the capital.

The ambient noise and lighting in the area paled in comparison to the bright city lights and clamour, but it was a nice transition and her migraine had finally disappeared. Fang walked at a slow pace, reveling in the quietude as she listened to the clacking of her open toed boots against the pavement. Though her likelihood of finding a job in the tranquil area was far slimmer than her chances at the restless square – not that she had much of a fighting chance to begin with – she found herself in silence for the first time since she left Gran Pulse. An aching sadness spread through her soul like wildfire as she thought of her home, threatening to overwhelm her. She missed the vast green plains, the endless rivers, boundless lakes, limitless blue sky, and even the brooding mountains that overlooked her village. She missed her friends; her _family_. Fang choked back tears as memories of her sister flashed through her mind; _Vanille_.

Fang inhaled deeply in attempt to calm herself as sobs racked her body, choking when the dense polluted air entered her lungs. Her heart clenched as she buried her memories behind her cold green eyes and she continued her trek down the deserted road. The last of the sun’s rays took its leave and darkness washed over the pitiful lands. She looked to the sky for comfort, only to find none. How long has it been since she’s seen a star in the sky? Angrily, she tore her glare from the incessant black and scanned the streets for shelter. It was far too early to call it a day but she was too exhausted to continue her fruitless quest for work.

She startled when the insistent grumbling of her stomach reminded her of how little she’s eaten, begging her to spend the miserable amount of gil in her pouch. With a weary sigh, Fang turned onto the larger road and was blessed with dimly lit neon “open” signs. She was in the middle of deciding which way to go when a wolf whistle sounded from across the street to her left. Upon closer inspection, she realized she had come across a group of unruly middle aged deadbeats out for another nightly round of drinking, loitering and soliciting. Not wanting to deal with the drunken scum, Fang turned right onto the wide street.

Unsynchronized footsteps behind her suggested she was being followed, no doubt by the same group from across the street. Fang clenched her fists and quickened her pace, too tired for physical confrontation. The footfalls became louder and faster. They traveled with her until the neon signs of stored still open for business were a thing of the past. Infuriated, Fang stopped dead in her tracks and whirled around to face her harassers, smirking as the men halted in surprise.

She counted four men, none smaller than her in size, but that didn’t matter. They were all the same. Anyone who had the audacity to antagonize her almost always ended up as a bloody heap. Fang took her time measuring up her burly opponents. Throughout her days in Cocoon, she had endured nothing but judgemental glares and insulting whispers behind her back. She was a proud Yun warrior, forced to keep her head down as she walked, too afraid to look up and face the scrutiny of the austerely clad Cocoonians. But she’d had enough, and these unlucky bastards were going to take the brunt of her ferocity.

The speaker of the group – a gruff unshaven man who resembled more of a bear than a human – stepped forward and bravely wrapped an arm around Fang’s shoulders, chuckling when he felt her stiffen at the touch.

“You looked like you could use some company, beautiful.” He pulled her in closer and gave her what he thought was a charming smile as his friends egged him on. Fang could hear her heart pump viciously as her muscles tensed, eager to finally be put to use after so long. The man took her silence as consent and grinned, his rancid breath escaping through rotten yellow teeth. His grubby hand left her shoulder and made its way down to her waist – but he didn’t stop there.

Without missing a beat, Fang grabbed and ducked under the offending appendage, nearly twisting it off in the process. The man bent over, gripping his left arm and let out a pained shout before a swift hard kick to the side of his face had him on the ground, slipping in and out of consciousness. Fang cracked her knuckles and stretched her arms above her head, satisfied she hadn’t lost her touch.

The man’s growling friends reminded Fang she wasn’t quite finished yet. “You bitch!” One of the men diverted his attention to his unconscious friend while the other two advanced on her.

When one of them made a move to grab her, she simply lifted her leg and executed a front kick that sent him reeling back into his friend. Her smirk turned into a full ear to ear grin. Overconfident people were the easiest to deal with.

“You’re going to pay for that!” He ran forward with his arm pulled back, readying for a punch. Fang ducked under his sloppy swing and used the man’s forward momentum to pull him down, bringing her knee up to meet chest.

“ _Tsk_. Such untrained animals,” she sneered. Just as she was about to end the man in the same fashion as she did the previous bloke, an arm snaked around her neck from behind and fixed her in a headlock.

Fang reached up and raked her uncut nails through the flesh on his face. With an agonized scream, the man relinquished his hold on her neck in favour of clutching his stinging face. Fang’s right fist met his chin in a ferocious uppercut and his head whipped back just in time for a kick to meet his groin. He joined his friends on the cold concrete groaning in agony. Fang stood back and admired the heap of groaning bodies on the ground, heart still racing.

 _One, two and three_ … _oh shit, there were–_

Fan turned around in time for a first to meet her jaw with a sickening crunch, throwing her off her feet and into the nearest wall. She grasped her mandible and struggled to get on her feet as her mind reeled from the bone splitting punch she had just received.

“Don’t count me out just yet, you Pulsian skank,” the man spat the last two words.

Fang’s head arced back painfully and she struggled with the hands grasping her throat and hair. She wanted nothing more than to run a spear right through his smug face. A coppery substance began to pool in her mouth and she fought to get her attacker back into view. Without warning, she spat the blood directly at his face and she fell to the pavement when the man released her and clawed at his eyes in an effort to regain vision. The man whimpered pathetically when he felt an unrelenting force pull him forward by his collar.

“Don’t. Touch. The hair,” Fang growled.

He quickly nodded in agreement and let out a sigh of relief when Fang released her grip, only to receive a solid right hook from the Pulsian. He joined his friends on the body littered concrete and the road once again returned to its silent state. Fang stood back and admired her handiwork; this time certain she didn’t miss anyone. She stretched her jaw, slightly wincing at the pain but otherwise satisfied it wasn’t broken. Without a word, she turned and continued down the dark and lonely road.

* * *

 

Lightning tensed as the heavy bag swung back in her direction at full force, the chains suspending it from the ceiling creaking in protest when its swing was halted at the lowest point. A torrent of fine black sand escaped the fist sized gash in the expensive leather material, collecting below on the dirty cement floor. _What the hell?! This is the third one this year!_ Before she could vent her new frustration by thrashing the material beyond repair, a familiar ring sounded through the empty gym.

A feeling of mild dread pooled in her stomach and she rushed to gather her belongings, ignoring the call completely. She could complain about the equipment another day. The thin sheen of sweat canvassing her lightly muscled frame protested as the damp tank top and shorts were peeled from her body and shoved messily into her bag with the rest of her gear. Dread turned to mild fear when she spared a glance at the time. Donning a loose fitting pair of jeans and a thin hooded sweatshirt, Lightning marched briskly out of the empty building to the nearest bus stop. _Crap, I was supposed to be home two hours ago_.

Living in the nicer part of the city meant a daily commute to the training gym, which wouldn’t be a problem unless she missed the last bus, which would otherwise mean a one hour long walk back. The urge to hit something returned when she spotted the familiar bus in the far distance, well on its way to her home… without her. _Double crap_. Lightning contemplated hailing a taxi, but in the end decided against it. She was already late, another hour wouldn’t make a difference and there was no sense in wasting money. Calling _her_ was definitely not an option. With a weary sigh, she pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head and jogged the long way home.

The cold weather went unnoticed as Lightning jogged down the gated community, unperturbed by the eerie silence of her opulent neighbourhood. The street was long but houses were few. They all looked the same to her; each had unnecessarily large double front doors, well kept yards and multiple  ridiculous supercars parked out front. She spotted a faint light at the end of the dark street and slowed her pace to a dilatory walk though her heart rate opted to do the complete opposite. Within minutes, Lightning found herself at the end of a spacious empty driveway illuminated by the dim porch light. She debated turning back and spending the night at the gym but her guilt erased the cowardly thoughts from her mind. She had a responsibility.

Lightning steeled herself and wrestled with the lock, not bothering to minimize the noise as her keys rattled against each other. She entered the large abode and shut the door quietly behind her when she realized she was alone. The house was grand; the only place she could call home, but it was anything but warm and welcoming. Breathing a sigh of relief, Lightning made her way past the foyer to the staircase when a quiet voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

“You’re late.” The voice was harsh and accusing, but Lightning could sense the hurt underlying her sister’s words. “You promised to be home for dinner today.” Lightning didn’t turn to face the smaller girl on the couch; she was too afraid of what she would see. She was never good with tears.

“I got held up at the gym. Sorry.” She spared her sister an apologetic glance over her shoulder but immediately regretted it when she spotted the trail of tears flowing freely from the younger girl’s face. Her sisterly instincts told her to go hold and comfort the crying girl, but her defenses existed to protect Serah as much as herself. She only wished her sister could understand.

“The gym closed three hours ago!” Lightning flinched. It was unlike her sweet little sister to speak to her in such a manner but then again, lately they have been everything but _sweet_ to each other.

“I missed the last bus,” she offered lamely.

“The last bus leaves two hours after the gym closes!” Serah huffed. Her sister could be so mule headed. “Never mind, but the least you could do is answer your phone so I know you haven’t worked yourself to death yet.”

Lightning pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. Why is it that every conversation with her sister eventually becomes about her line of work?

“Serah, I’m tired. Can we not do this right now?” Lightning turned and climbed the stairs, eager to take a hot shower. She was halfway to the top of the staircase when Serah’s next words had her marching back down angrily. “Excuse me?”

“I _said_ ; I’m sorry I’m in the way of your life.” Lightning’s eyes widened in anger when her sister crossed her arms smugly, content with the reaction she was able to solicit.

“Serah, you _are_ my life,” she emphasized slowly. “Everything I’ve done – I’m _doing_ – is for you!” Lightning fought to regain control of her emotions. _Indoor voices, Lightning_. How could her sister be so ignorant?

“Well no one asked you to.” Serah braced herself, expecting Lightning to slap her. Instead, she saw a flash of sadness behind her sister’s icy blue eyes before ferocity took over.

“Mom and dad asked me to,” she spat, angry at herself for playing such a card against her baby sister. Serah rolled her eyes, having expected such an excuse.

“I’m eighteen; I can take care of myself! They would’ve wanted you to be happy, not throw your life away for me. I want a sister, _Claire_ ; not a warden!” Lightning cringed at the use of her real name; a name she had abandoned a long time ago, but something about hearing Serah call her by her given name brought her joy, no matter how fleeting it was.

“I’m happy as long as you’re happy.” Though Serah might not believe her words for a second, they were all she had left to cling onto. It had been her philosophy for half a decade, and not even Serah could change it.

Serah scoffed quietly, but it was enough to hurt. Such a sound was not fitting for her beloved counterpart. They shared many things; azure eyes and strawberry blonde hair being a few of them, but the bitterness that had rooted itself deep inside of her was something she did not wish to share. She knew what Serah was doing. All the emotions the younger girl claimed could only belong to Claire, whom she locked away in the utmost unreachable parts of her soul, seemed to amplify in the presence of her younger lookalike. It annoyed her.

“It’s late. You have school tomorrow.” Lightning watched unmoving as Serah rolled her eyes and marched crisply to her room.

“Goodnight, _Lightning_ ,” Serah called before slamming the door shut.

The older Farron headed dejectedly towards the kitchen; all the arguing had made her hungry. She didn’t get it, her habit of missing dinner and coming home late was more than routine; so why did Serah have to make such a big deal out of it?

Upon entering the kitchen, she was faced with a simple expertly wrapped gift box and a beautifully decorated cake on the small dining table. Everything fell into place when she spotted the twenty one unlit candles sitting atop the homemade chocolate cake.

_Worst birthday ever._

* * *

 

Lebreau hummed melodically as she wiped down her counter. The sun had set not too long ago and her last customer left just before the sun set. Her bar was the only store on the block to be open past midnight but she had learned from many years of experience that no one ever came in past nine o’clock on a Monday night so the bar owner was surprised to hear the familiar jingling bells when her door pushed open, letting in the cold night breeze. _Huh, well this is a first._

The woman who entered her bar was a sight for sore eyes. Considering her line of work, the majority of her customers were stocky blue collar workers almost twice her age and three times her size. This woman didn’t look a day past twenty one, but she did look like she had seen better days. Judging from the deep blue traditional attire she recognized as a _sari_ , the woman must have come from Gran Pulse. The Pulsian had messy long dark hair, and strikingly green emerald eyes. Behind all the dirt and blood, Lebreau could see a beautifully sculpted face and slightly tanned complexion, as well as a beauty mark under the woman’s right eye. There was a heavy lethargic air associated with the Pulsian and her eyes spoke tales of great suffering. She took a seat at the bar and glanced nervously at the shelves behind the counter.

“What can I get for ya?” Lebreau waited patiently as the woman scanned her inventory. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse but gentle nonetheless.

“Just water. Please.” Lebreau quirked an eyebrow at the strange request and laughed, causing the woman to scowl at her.

“You came to a bar for water?” She immediately regretted her comment when the Pulsian set a handful of gil on the counter. She could tell without even counting that it wasn’t be nearly enough to purchase her cheapest drink.

“It’s all I have.”

A heavy silence fell through the room before Lebreau reached under her counter for two shot glasses and a bottle of her finest whiskey. She filled the small glasses and set one in front of the woman. She winked and took her shot as her patron watched in confusion.

“It’s my treat.” She smiled when the woman nodded her thanks and swallowed her drink, grimacing as the alcohol burned her throat on its way down.

“I’m Lebreau, and you are?” The Pulsian hesitated before smiling for the first time since she entered the bar – since she set foot on Cocoon actually. It was a small smile, but a genuine one nonetheless.

“I’m Fang.” Lebreau waited for Fang to offer any more information about herself but it became obvious that Fang wasn’t the talkative type. Luckily, she was a social magician when it came to people.

“You come here from Pulse?”

Fang scoffed at the blatant incorrect use of her home’s name. “I’m a huntress of the Yun clan in the village of Oerba on the continent of _Gran_ Pulse.” Her voice brimmed with pride as she mentioned her home. “I came here for work.”

Lebreau wasn’t surprised. Pulsians immigrate to Cocoon hoping to escape the tribal life but the cultural barrier and temperate segregation meant most didn’t stay long, and judging from Fang’s bitter tone, she wasn’t planning on being around for much longer.

“No luck eh?” The silence that followed confirmed her suspicions. “Cocoon’s not so bad, just give it some time.”

Fang mentally scoffed. _Not so bad? This place is a bloody hell hole!_ She missed her home and wouldn’t give a gorgon’s ass about the money if it weren’t for Vanille.

The mildly amused bartender watched Fang brood in silence until the sound of bells once again disturbed her peace. A tall lanky officer tipped his hat at Lebreau in greeting and turned his attention to the obvious outsider in the bar.

“I received a call recently, something about a Pulsian female suspected of attacking four unarmed men outside a bar.” He coughed nervously when Fang met his eyes with an icy glare. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you miss?”

“Not a thing.” Fang smirked, fully aware of her bloodstained features. _Did those bastards really go crying to the police? Ha!_

“Ma’am, may I remind you that assaulting a person is punishable by up to two years in prison?”

Fang’s smirk wavered as her mind raced with the new information. She couldn’t afford to go to jail – there are people depending on her – but she didn’t have an excuse and the evidence was written all over her face and clothing.

“When exactly did this supposed _assault_ happen, officer?” Lebreau questioned suspiciously.

“About a half hour ago ma’am.”

“Then you’re antagonizing the wrong person because my friend here hasn’t left this bar since she came in at eight o’clock this morning.” Lebreau shot Fang a look. _Just play along!_

“Really now?” The officer took up the seat beside Fang and addressed her directly. “You don’t look like someone who’s been drinking for thirteen hours straight.” Lebreau rolled her eyes and resisted the urge to break a wine bottle over his thick head.

“I don’t allow my employees to drink on the job,” Lebreau stated coldly, tired of his prodding.

“Do you allow your employees to show up for work looking like this?” He asked, referring to Fang’s ripped bloodstained and dirty clothes.

“How many bouncers do you know finish a shift looking all polished and clean, huh?” Her glare dared him to ask another question.

Deciding it was too late and that he was too tired to deal with this mediocre complaint, the officer bitterly thanked them for their time and took his leave. Fang waited a few seconds after the door closed before she spoke.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I wasn’t kidding you know. This place can get pretty rough at times and anyone who can make four grown men cry to the police is worth hiring. Plus, it’d be nice to have more women around; this place is a sausage fest.” Lebreau laughed as Fang’s eyes lit up like fireworks.

“Wow… thank you.”

Fang spent the remaining bar hours behind the counter where Lebreau taught her the basics of bartending, the different types of alcoholic drinks, and how to mix them. When closing hour came, Lebreau blessed the Pulsian with yet another surprise.

“If you don’t already have a place to stay, I’ve been looking to get a roommate for a while.” Lebreau pocketed her keys after making sure her door was locked and waited patiently for an answer.

“Are… are you sure?” Fang couldn’t believe her ears. Lebreau’s kindness was overwhelming for someone in her situation. “I mean if it’s not too much trouble…” She felt an arm slip around her shoulders and drag her forward.

“Well I’m not giving you a choice, am I?”

Their footsteps fell into sync as Fang marched beside her new friend down the dark, not so lonely road.


	2. Chapter 2

The weather was hot and humid, not too different from what Oerba Yun Fang was used to on the dry plains of Gran Pulse. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky to blanket the grand city as its people marched feverishly to work; one of the striking differences between the utopia and her home. No matter how busy her people were with work, they always had time for family. Fang didn’t see any of that on Cocoon. The vipers worked from dusk till dawn – sometimes even later – as if money was the only thing that mattered. It disgusted her how unappreciated family was because for the longest time she didn’t have anyone to call family… until she met _her_. Fang shook her head to rid her mind of the bitter memories. She needed to focus; the sooner she saved enough money, the earlier she can leave the mindless metropolis and return home.

The Pulsian enjoyed the hot weather – the only familiar commodity in the industrialized city – but the residents of Cocoon made her blood boil. _Well, not all of them_ , she reminded herself. After all, Lebreau and her family _did_ save her from a lonely and miserable death by famine. Fang had been on the floating continent for nearly two months; half of which she spent homeless, hungry and unemployed. The other half she spent living with Lebreau, and acquainting herself with the bartender’s close friends; a group of young men who called themselves team NORA. For a rowdy bunch of young adults who were strictly opposed to obligations, rules, and authority, they were some of the kindest people Fang had ever met – on both Gran Pulse _and_ Cocoon. If the past month on the vipers’ nest had taught her anything, it was that the place was indeed full of vipers, but not all of them were venomous. She received her fair share of scorn and contempt – there was no changing who she was, and where she came from – but her friends would always be there to end it.

The hot sun bore its rays down from its position high above the clouds and Fang finally succumbed to the weariness that had started to spread since Lebreau demanded she take the week off. Maqui, NORA’s youngest and most technological member, stopped his vehicle in front of a set of stairs that led to a large white building. Sizeable black letters that read _EDEN FITNESS_ lined the top of the two storied structure.

“This is it; I’ll be back after work to pick you up.” The Pulsian scowled at him and left the vehicle. “Sorry I didn’t stick up for you, Fang, but you know how Breau can be,” he chuckled nervously. Fang rolled her eyes at the young man. Not only did Lebreau fire her for a week, she firmly insisted – with the threat of firing her _indefinitely_ – that Fang join the city’s gym; something about _meeting new friends_ and _punching sandbags instead of customers_. Any complaints from her or any NORA member who rushed to her defense fell on deaf ears.

“Be here _right_ after work, ya got it?” Maqui grinned, glad that Fang was finally talking to him again.

“Not a second later, I promise.” He waved and drove off. Fang watched the heftily modified car disappear down the road and considered ditching the gym to spend the next few hours elsewhere. She decided against letting Lebreau’s malicious gift go to waste and trudged up the set of stairs with her duffel bag swung over one shoulder. Besides, she didn’t know where else to go in the large unforgiving city.

Ironically, even though she spent the first month on Cocoon with little to nothing to eat, Fang felt a sense of heaviness, as if an invisible weight was crushing through and clinging to her very soul. It was a familiar feeling; after all, she spent most of her childhood alone on desolate lands, but Fang was in her element back on Gran Pulse. In the heart of Eden – the floating utopia’s capital city – Fang was no different from a fish out of water.

Loneliness was a terrible affliction and a dangerous state, simply because numbers meant next to nothing in the face self loathing. Fang grew up surrounded by people. She had matrons who cared for her and plenty of children who considered her a friend – an acquaintance at the least – but she couldn’t rid herself of the hollow feeling… until the day she met Vanille.

* * *

 

Fang stared incredulously at the child approaching her position by the riverbank. The young Pulsian had been in a terrible mood since the matron brought home a new girl the night prior, and an even worse one since the girl attempted to make conversation with her. All the nonsensical small talk and whispered jokes grated every inch of Fang’s nerves. There was nothing funny about her situation – _their_ situation – so why was that little girl so damn cheerful? In the six years Fang spent residing at the orphanage, she had finally come to terms with the fact that she was alone and made peace with the shame and disgrace that came with being a sole survivor.

There was no surprise or variation in the stories each child shared. It was all the same, really. Tragedy was a common occurrence on Gran Pulse. Whether it was famine or disease, it always left children like her either dead, or alone. Fang was only ten when the plague struck her hometown of Paddra. It left the city in ruins and it was still unknown as to why she was the only villager to survive. Theories ranged from a blessing from the Goddess Etro, to Fang being the source of the illness herself, and she found her belief in the latter fortifying with every passing second in which she was still alive. The other children understood so they left her alone, yet the blithesome young girl had the audacity to approach her without a care in the world; as if her sufferings were a laughing matter.

Fang turned away to face the calm, steady river and willed herself to feel the same. The grass rustled beside her as the girl sat down, much too close to Fang’s discomfort, and smoothed out the wrinkles on her skirt.

“Hello, my name’s Vanille.” Fang continued to stare blankly at the running water, though she could tell the girl was still smiling at her. “You missed dinner yesterday, so we didn’t get to talk much.” Fang mentally scoffed at the silent accusation.

“I was tired, so I went to sleep. Got a problem with that?” Fang turned to face Vanille for the first time since she sat down. Vanille had orange-red hair which she wore in low pigtails. She had on a rosy pink tube top, orange-yellow skirt that cut off midway down her thighs, and a furry pelt around her waist that revealed light creamy skin. Beaded jewelry decorated her neck, wrists, and even the aforementioned clothing. Vanille’s gleeful visage was as blinding as the sun that kindled the sky. Fang couldn’t remember the last time she saw a smile so bright.

“Nope, not at all, but I do hope you’re feeling better,” Vanille grinned, unperturbed by the other girl’s menacing, sharp tone.

“I’m just dandy.” Fang returned to staring at the river in silence, and this time Vanille wisely chose to do the same. The sun would set in a few hours; Fang hoped the other girl would be long gone by then. Not a chance.

“So where did you come from?” The sudden question took Fang by surprise. No one had ever dared to ask her such a thing, and no one aside from the matrons knew the answer. She didn’t want to reveal every detail of her personal life to the girl, but for some unknown reason she felt inclined to answer.

“Paddra,” Fang breathed.

“Oh.” The older girl scowled once she saw Vanille’s idiotic grin in the corner of her eye. Was there something funny about the city ruins, or was this girl as naïve as she was apparently neurotic? “What clan?” Fang sighed. She hated questions about her past as much as she hated answering them.

“Yun.” Fang swelled with pride as she thought of her once mighty clan. The Yun were renowned hunters; warriors both feared and respected by clans across the expanse of the Yaschas Massif and other regions of Gran Pulse even.

“Oh.” Pride quickly turned into anger at the grin still plastered on the smaller girl’s face. The great tragedy of the mighty Yun clan was legendary across the entire nation; even unborn children have heard tales of how Paddra came to ruins. Surely even the daft would be able to recognize it as no laughing matter.

“What’s so _funny?!_ ” Fang turned to glare into the bright peridot eyes, but Vanille’s smile was unwavering.

“Nothing.”

Fang wasn’t sure if she asked the next question out of spite or curiosity… or both.

“What about you?” Fang asked before she could stop herself, “what wreck did you crawl out of?” For the first time since meeting Vanille, Fang witnessed her face without a smile. It was… unfitting. Vanille stood and marched slowly into the water, not stopping until it was halfway to her knees.

“I didn’t come from anywhere.” Fang rolled her eyes. She appreciated a cryptic answer as much as she appreciated humidity on a hot day. “I’m a Dia… the last one.”

 _Oh._ Fang nodded, not sure how else to react. The Dia were a wandering clan of healers, feared by few but respected by all. They weren’t a very sizeable clan and fertile progeny were little and few. Suddenly, Vanille’s curt responses didn’t seem so rude and disrespectful anymore. The girl had more of a past than she led people to believe… just like Fang.

“Then why are you so happy all the time? Why aren’t you sad?” Fang asked.

“Of course I’m sad, but I don’t have to be sad all the time you know... I can be happy too.” Vanille stepped out of the water and sat, this time facing Fang.

“Oh yeah? And what’s there to be happy about?” Fang leaned back on her hands and smirked, eager to hear Vanille’s naïve and childish answer.

“The future.”

…

Vanille scowled as the older girl howled with laughter.

“Oh, you were serious… listen kiddo, optimism’s great and everything, but don’t get your hopes up too high,” Fang winked.

“Yeah? And what do you see in your future that makes it so bad?” Vanille wrapped her arms around her knees and leaned forward. She used her feet to rock her body back and forth as she glared at the pessimistic girl she chose to keep company.

“The same things I’ve seen up till now, that’s what I see. It would take a miracle to make this world a better place to live in.”

“That’s because you’re focusing on only the bad, you’re missing a lot of wonderful things about Gran Pulse. Besides, miracles are things we make for ourselves, here and now.” Fang shuddered. Vanille sounded just like the matrons.

“Right,” she nodded. “So tell me, what could I possibly do to bring my clan back to life, to restore the ash and dust of the ruins back into the glorious city of Paddra?” Fang had intended the response to be a rhetorical question – a joke at best – but her yearning for the answer along with the cruel reality of their situation laced her tone with bitter venom.

“You can’t do anything to change the past, but you can still change the future.” Fang rolled her eyes again. What was this girl’s obsession with the future?

The pair sat in an uncomfortable silence before Vanille spoke once again.

“Oerba Yun Fang,” she stated idly.

“No… it’s _Paddra_ Yun Fang,” Fang emphasized slowly. She became increasingly convinced the younger girl was indeed bonkers. “Or at least it was.”

“But Oerba’s your home now.” Vanille drew small patterns in the tall grass beside her. “Oerba’s my home now.” Fang couldn’t tell when Vanille had started crying, but that damn smile was still bright as day, even underneath the torrent of unrelenting tears and a cruel reality. Something about this girl made Fang concerned. Maybe she was still capable of caring after all.

“Then I guess this makes you Oerba Dia Vanille,” Fang shrugged. The tears stopped almost immediately.

“Yup! We’re practically family!” Vanille beamed skipped back into the river. Fang lay back to rest on the cool grass and watched the clouds circulate the ephemeral orange sky. The sun would soon set, and Gran Pulse would once again return to its pitiful state of darkness. Fang felt like a liar, responsible for every adverse detail time adhered. The future held no promises; it would be nothing like what Vanille looked forward to, but if all it took were lies to dry the tears and keep that radiant smile from fading, then Fang was content with being a liar.

Shadows casted far and wide as the sun finally set, and the plains became embraced in darkness. She heard Vanille’s wet feet traipse through the grass and halt near her head. Fang returned to a sitting position when Vanille knelt beside her and held out her hands; cupped together as if trapping the air inside. Fang shifted curiously and Vanille removed one hand to reveal a glowing lightning bug. She had never seen one up close before. The younger girl motioned for Fang to cup her hands together.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Vanille pouted and Fang rolled her eyes. The older girl reluctantly held out her hand, palm facing up, and Vanille carefully overlapped their fingers. At first the bug remained stationary, but after a few seconds it slowly made its way over onto Fang’s tan fingers and nestled itself in the crook of her palm.

“It likes you,” Vanille giggled.

Fang didn’t say anything. The two sat in silence – three including the bug – and watched the other glowing critters flutter throughout the field. Despite having watched the sun set in that spot every night for half a decade, Fang had never noticed there were so many of them before. She supposed light could be found even on the darkest of nights.

After a few minutes, the lightning bug on Fang’s palm stirred and took flight to join the rest of its family. Vanille laid back on the soft ground, spreading her arms and legs out comfortably, and Fang followed suit. She turned her gaze back overhead, expecting the incessant black sky to swallow up her fleeting moment of content. Instead, Fang was faced with yet another pleasant but overlooked offering of the night.

The stars were beautiful.

* * *

 

The centre was heavily air conditioned and lacked the collective sweaty stench one would expect at a gym that welcomed over five hundred people on a daily basis. Equipment littered the entire ground floor of the west wing, and Fang could spot even more on the second. Natural sunlight permeated the glass panels on the far roof of the building, illuminating the indoor track and the large pool beneath it. A sign overhead marked the east as home to the indoor courts and ice rinks. There was no shortage of people present at the centre, and for a Monday morning the crowd was staggering. Somehow, the building’s space and equipment were more than sufficient. Fang quickly scanned her surroundings one last time before wandering over to the waiting receptionist.

“Welcome to Eden Fitness! What can I do for you today?” Fang quirked an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by the woman’s friendly tone but offered a small smile. Without her traditional sari, she may as well have been another viper clone in this city.

“My friend bought me this.” Fang handed over the gold card. She could see the receptionist’s features contort slightly upon hearing her Pulsian accent, but gave the woman credit for quickly composing herself and returning the card with a smile – even if it was a fake one.

“What you have is a gold membership. It gives you all access to every service in this facility, even after business hours. Just scan the card at the front doors and any turnstiles.”

Fang nodded her thanks and ambled over to the west wing where she spotted all the hefty equipment just moments earlier. She scanned her card and pushed through the turnstile, then followed the signs directing her to the women’s locker room.

The room was an amalgam of smells ranging from sweat to fruity body spray and featured an array of people in similar uniform; athletic shorts and sleeveless shirts. Fang continued to the very end, far away from the clusters of women engrossed in nonsensical gossip and small talk. She found an empty locker and a curtained shower stall to change in. As far as Fang was concerned, the cultural markings and unhealed scars that canvassed her body were akin to sacrilege on Cocoon.

The tank top sufficiently covered her scar littered back, however the large inked maw on her left shoulder remained exposed to any scrutiny from the conservative vipers. Fang reached back into her duffel bag for the sleeved shirt she had exchanged for the undershirt, and pulled it over the sleeveless top. Fang pushed the curtains aside stepped out of the stall only to be greeted by an awkward silence.  She tugged on her left sleeve in attempt to hide as much of her tattoo as possible. She could tell the flitting glances thrown over nosy shoulders were aimed in her direction. Fang tossed her bag into the empty locker closest to her.

“That’s my locker,” said a quiet, firm voice to her right.

Fang turned to face the owner of the voice, practiced and reluctant apologies ready to roll off her tongue, but froze at the sight of icy zircon eyes. The woman’s light rosy hair cascaded over her left shoulder and her edgy front bangs radiated laterally to the right, partially curtaining her indifferent expression. Fang met the woman’s callous look evenly, silently challenging the woman to confront her one more time. There was something about the blue eyed woman that separated her from the rest of the vipers Fang encountered day to day; the look she gave Fang was something else entirely. She received more than her fair share of disdainful stares throughout her day, but there were always hints of fear underlying the looks of contempt. There was no hatred written in the woman’s blue eyes, and certainly no fear. The woman moved from her spot near the counter and it became evident that the curious glances being cast her way weren’t meant for her, but the woman beside her.

“There are empty ones beside it, but that one’s mine.” The woman’s voice remained as emotionless as her expression when she spoke.

“Right,” Fang nodded, apologies long forgotten. She emptied the compartment of her scant belongings and tossed them in the one immediately to the left of the woman’s claimed space. Fang snatched her water bottle and left without a word.

Fang examined the extensive equipment from the row of benches that lined the wall near the locker rooms. Her muscles ached, begging to be put to use, but she had no idea how to use any of the machines. A flash of pink hair moving swiftly through the crowd caught her attention. Fang watched the blue eyed woman from the locker room leap into the air and latch onto a horizontal bar then pull the rest of her body up until the bar became level with her eyes. Her muscles rippled under her toned creamy arms as she repeated the process fifteen times before landing expertly back on the ground. Fang marched over to greet the woman.

“Hi there,” Fang smirked. Once again she heard an awkward silence fall into place around her. She expected the woman’s smooth features to twist in disgust, but her features remained as expressionless as ever; unfazed by the Pulsian’s accent. The woman stared at her evenly for a few seconds before finally answering.

“Hi,” she nodded.

“I’m new here. Do you think you can help me with some of the equipment?” Fang fought the urge to roll her eyes as the woman stared back in silence.

“If you need a personal trainer you can upgrade to a gold membership,” the woman pointed a finger toward the receptionist near the entrance to the facility, “over there.” This time Fang didn’t fight the urge to roll her eyes. She pulled her membership card out of her shorts pocket and fanned herself with the rectangular piece of plastic.

“No need for an upgrade, Sunshine.” Fang stifled a chuckle when the woman’s face morphed into a scowl at the endearing term. _Someone doesn’t take compliments very well…_

“Do you honestly expect me to believe you don’t know how to use any of the equipment in here? What, were you born on Pulse?” Fang chuckled and slid the card back into her pocket and spoke to the woman slowly, emphasizing each word with an overly exaggerated Pulsian accent.

“You bet. Us Pulsians, we aren’t born with our heads in the clouds.” Fang winked and pulled off the sleeved shirt to reveal her large maw tattoo. It was getting too stuffy underneath all that polyester anyway.

Fang stepped around and lifted herself onto the bar the same way the other woman had. _Geez, I really did lose weight_.

“It’s too bad… your attitude… isn’t as pretty… as your face,” she said between lifts. Fang could tell the woman was watching her intently as she continued the repetitions. _Eighteen… nineteen… twenty!_ _Hah!_ _How do you like them apples?_

Fang released her hold on the bar and landed, knees slightly bent on the lightly padded ground. The woman was still staring at her left shoulder.

“I believe the words you’re looking for are _‘I’m sorry’,_ ” Fang chuckled. The woman’s scowl deepened. “Call it square?” she asked, unable to look away from the enchanting blue eyes.

The woman hesitated before she nodded in agreement.

“I’m Oerba Yun Fang, but you can call me Fang.” She held out a hand.

“I…” Blue eyes landed between Fang’s outstretched hand and the locker rooms. “I have to go.” The stolid woman turned and marched away without even sparing a glance back at the disappointed Pulsian.

Perhaps it was the ostensive look of interest the woman had when she peered at her tattoo, or the uncomfortable shuffling when she hesitated to answer, but Fang no longer saw her has the menacing ice queen from the locker room when she gazed into her eyes. What she saw hit closer to home than any racial slur screamed across narrow streets or hushed whispers at the back of the bar when troubling news of Gran Pulse reached Cocoon.

Fang saw stars, and they were beautiful.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to freestylesmile and xxDster! Any mistakes are my own (obviously).

_Claire bit down on her lower lip, disbelief written clearly over her small, rounded features. As much as she wanted to, she was determined not to cry. She couldn’t, not with Serah looking up at her like that. She felt the nine year old tug on her sleeve pleadingly, but she couldn’t bring herself to look down. The small shaky hand she held in hers tightened its grip as her younger sister trembled with tears._

_A small, naive part of her still believed that it was all just a dream - that she would wake from the nightmare in cold sweat to find herself in the comforting arms of her mother who would then reassure her that everything would be all right. But she knew better. Claire awoke from her previous nightmare only to find herself living another._

_A gruff voice interrupted her silent reverie. “Miss Farron, do you understand what I am telling you?”_

_Claire focused her attention on the bulbous man across her dining table. No, she didn’t understand, but she’d heard enough to know exactly what was about to happen._

_Serah winced when her older sister’s hands clenched into small, shaky fists._

_“You can’t take my house! Where will we stay?” she asked him._

_The man shifted and loosened his tie, less than thrilled with being assigned to a case involving children._

_“Miss Farron, your father owed the bank a substantial sum before he passed. We have no choice but to repossess the house. As for you and your sister, I’m sure Family Services will find lovely foster homes more than willing to take you in.” He gathered his loose paperwork and piled them neatly in his briefcase before closing it. Then he stood and made to leave._

_“No!” Claire spread her free arm in an attempt to block the wide door frame. “Serah stays with me! You can’t take her from me!” Claire tightened her grip on Serah’s hand._

_She cried for all she was worth. Her sister was about to be ripped from her life at any moment, the same way her parents were, yet a part of her still believed it was all a dream; that it wasn’t real and she was simply having another nightmare. For a short while Claire had hope, but the sound of her own cries echoed in her ears and reminded her of the worthless little urchin she had become._

_“Miss Farron, you are not of age. Even if this place was not repossessed, you wouldn’t be able to live here on your own,” the agent said firmly._

_The house went silent, save for the sound of rain hitting the abode’s large windows and the despairing wails of Serah and Claire. Suddenly, a three tone chime, followed by heavy footsteps, sounded from the foyer of the grand house._

_“Claire! Serah!” called the new voice._

_The two girls immediately turned to the familiar voice, elated._

_“Uncle Dysley!” Claire ran toward the old man, a torrent of rushed words spilling from her mouth as she pulled Serah along behind her. “Uncle Dysley! They’re taking my house and they said Serah and I can’t live together and-”_

_“Slow down now, Claire!” The older man pulled the two girls in for a hug and they heartily returned the embrace despite his soaking wet clothing. “Claire, take Serah upstairs. I’ll handle this,” he said when his gaze landed on the agent standing uncomfortably in the doorway._

_The older girl nodded and nearly made a run for the stairs, dragging behind a weeping Serah. She led her sister passed the master bedroom and into a smaller room off to the side. Once inside, Serah immediately buried her small frame under the covers where she helplessly clung onto her sister and eventually cried herself to sleep._

_“Serah, they’re not taking you from me,” Claire whispered in the darkness. “I swear it.” She wiped at the drying trail of tears on the sleeping girl’s face. Serah, though only three years her junior, would always be her baby sister. Even growing up, the girl couldn’t do anything without coming to Claire for help, whether it was tying a perfect knot on her shoe or telling the cashier what flavour ice cream she wanted. But Claire wasn’t bothered by it at all. It was her job to protect Serah and her father’s dying words made sure of it._

_Claire glanced nervously at the clock. Her uncle had been talking to the other man for nearly an hour and Serah had begun to stir. A few minutes later, her bedroom door slowly creaked open and Dysley quietly marched in. He kneeled next to her bed and placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly._

_“Everything is all right, Claire. No one is taking your house and no one is taking you or Serah, but…” Claire saw a flash of mirth dance across her uncle’s eyes. “You have to make me a deal.”_

_Claire hesitated. She had never made a deal before, but her father was always talking about his. Her father was a powerful man and he earned his influence through his dealings._

_“Okay,” she complied._

_Claire never wanted to feel so powerless ever again. She needed strength... for Serah. Uncle Dysley was her father’s best friend; surely the man would take care of them both._

_Little did Claire know, her nightmare had only just begun._

* * *

 

Fang frowned and tossed the rag used to wipe the countertop into the waste bin. Lebreau was snaking her way around the corner, ready for another interrogation session. The bar owner reached for a new rag and mindlessly scrubbed the recently cleaned area, attention evidently elsewhere, and Fang sighed blearily. Lebreau had recurrently pushed her patience to its utmost peak, resulting in violent verbal out lashes from the Pulsian, but it did not deter her quest for answers.

With her elbows on the counter and chin resting atop her palms, the bar owner swiveled to gift Fang with a smug look. The past week had been nothing short of a game of cat and mouse between the two, and the mouse was fortuitously elusive. Lebreau was determined not to lose to a hypothetical rodent.

Lebreau’s eyes flared victoriously. “You can claim to be tired and sleepy all you want at home but you can’t do that here.”

Her new roommate, though genuinely friendly and kind to those who treated her well, was not someone who could be pushed around. Lebreau had yet to learn the details of the Pulsian’s most recent life choices. Fang mostly kept to herself and Lebreau respected that. However, Lebreau could sense that Fang wanted – needed – to talk about something… someone, even. The Pulsian just didn’t know it yet.

“Socializing on the job is unprofessional.” Fang wrestled the rag out of Lebreau’s hand before a hole was rubbed into the black marble top. Lebreau had been breathing down her neck ever since she returned from the gym weeks before. Maqui folded like a paper bag and ratted her out for calling him early, that little sh-

Lebreau barked a laugh. “Hah! That might’ve worked on any other stringent employer, but not me. Besides, I’m not asking as your boss, I’m asking as your friend.”

Fang shrugged. In all twenty one years of her life she had yet to relinquish hold of any information she didn’t want to – not even to Vanille, and the girl could grill a behemoth to death with her questions – but Lebreau’s feat was admittedly impressive. There was no denying her interesting encounter with the pink haired woman had put her in a slightly agitated mood, but she wasn’t about to tell Lebreau why she was so frustrated. Heck, she didn’t even know the answer herself.

“I’m not going to tell you Breau.” Fang smirked and placed one hand on her hip. Lebreau was tough, but she was tougher.

The bar owner grinned at Fang’s use of her nickname. After nearly three months of curt responses and keeping to herself, her roommate was finally warming up to her.

“Oh, but you will in due time.” Lebreau winked and arched her back in a comfortable stretch, not daring enough to push the other woman further. Another day, another bit of progress made. Good. Lebreau knew she was annoying the Pulsian, but the other woman needed to know there were still people worth trusting, and that she was fighting to earn it. Luckily for Fang, Lebreau had plans – other than harassing her with questions – scheduled that night.

“I have to go.” Fang balked at the familiar farewell. The words still haunted her. “Snow needs my help. I’ll be back in a few hours, and try not to break any faces while I’m gone,” Lebreau chuckled, but there were traces of pleading behind her joking tone.

“The idiot had it coming,” Fang bristled. Nobody can touch her hair without earning a few broken bones.

The bar fell into a comfortable silence once Lebreau left and Fang didn’t like the empty feeling one bit. The clock on the wall beside her read three o’clock; still too early for happy hour patrons on a Thursday night. Without warning, her thoughts ventured down the path Lebreau so desperately wanted to tread on.

It had only been two meager weeks since her run in with the mysterious blue eyed woman at Eden Fitness, but the encounter replayed itself in her mind for what felt like an eternity. It bounced and echoed behind every thought and every dream; it kept her awake at night and drained her of energy in the mornings.

What if the curious glances at her tattoo were out of disgust rather than interest? It certainly didn’t seem like so at the time, but the woman was rather good at hiding more than just her emotions. Fang didn’t even get a name to match the stony, statuesque face.

Pinky – the nickname Fang had given the woman who haunted her thoughts and dreams – was unlike any other Cocoonian she’d ever met. There were no forced smiles to go along with feigned interest and fruitless small talk; just genuine, cold, hard feelings. Fang appreciated genuine. It was a trait most vipers lacked. The way Pinky shuffled uncomfortably as Fang approached, the hesitation when posed with a simple greeting or question; it was all too enticing. And the eyes… Fang couldn’t read past those zircon barriers.

The situation frustrated her. She returned to the dreaded gym every day after with the hopes of another encounter with the mysterious woman only to find an empty locker and no one to tell her it was theirs.

It was as if someone showed her a book; she liked the cover and more than enjoyed the bits and pieces excerpted on the back, but whether the pages were blank inside or there was more to read between the lines, Fang didn’t know. And it drove her crazy.

* * *

 

Blue eyes trained on the grand residence at the end of the wide empty road from the confines of a luxurious, black vehicle. It’s size earned the abode envious glances from haughty neighbours, and even more hateful glares from visitors and Pulsian servants. Lightning Farron’s scowl fell upon the gardener just metres away from her home, but the whole of her fury was directed to her presumptuous next door neighbour. The man – a promiscuous paramour whom she was sure made a living by bribery and extortion – was in the midst of carrying out his foolish ploy to take over her property; one inch at a time. The man was cutting into her property and claiming it as his own. Lightning was no fool. Like the man’s atrocious hairline, her tall, uncut grass would recede by inches every time the lawn needed mowing – which was more often than conventional.

“You should put up a fence.” Ernite coloured eyes met hers in the rear view mirror of the conspicuous vehicle. “Else you won’t have a lawn to go along with that lovely house of yours.”

Lightning sighed wearily and unfastened her seat belt, but made no move to leave the vehicle. As much as she hated the woman, she disliked her confrontations with Serah even more.

“It’s not my house,” she stated. “Not yet.”

Ferocity left the woman’s green eyes when she turned to face Lightning, replaced by a softness that led Lightning to believe the gentle smile accompanying it was also genuine.

“You’re almost there. The title is as good as yours, Farron.”

Long, blonde hair and thin, rectangular glasses framed the woman’s face and eyes. She reminded Lightning of a teacher she had many years before, however the competent attire warned her otherwise. The woman was no loving teacher. She was Jihl Nabaat; a spy, vice president of Sanctum Boxing Association, and assistant – though Lightning preferred the term dog – to SBA’s president and CEO; Galenth Dysley.

“Serah’s home from school. I’ll walk from here.” Lightning left the parked vehicle and nodded her thanks to Jihl, who stared back at her with curiosity in her eyes.

“What?” Lightning inquired.

“Serah tells me you’ve been jogging home at night. Are the fans on the bus bothering you again?”

Lightning immediately bristled. “No. I want the exercise.” Her sister had no business contacting Jihl.

Jihl peered towards the empty driveway. “I’ll talk to Dysley about getting you that car.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t want to owe that man any more than I already do. I enjoy running, and Serah has friends who drive her around.” Lightning grimaced. Lately, she’d been depending on NORA to look after Serah more often. She was failing as a guardian.

“You call me if you ever need a ride – anything at all, really,” Jihl offered.

Lightning nodded and began her short stroll down the street. She could hear the soft hum of an engine starting and seconds later, Jihl disappeared around the gated corner.

The daylight made her neighbourhood a great deal more ostentatious than she presumed possible. Vehicles worth almost as much as each individual house glistened on interlocking driveways and blinded her from every direction, while a blend of noises from sprinklers and mowers threatened to deafen her.

The Pulsian for hire bowed his head in greeting as she neared the end of her driveway and before she could remind herself of the real mastermind behind the sinister ploy, she glowered at him. Frightened, he quickly returned to shaving a few more inches off of her lawn in intimidated silence.

Lightning marched up her empty driveway, uneasiness settling in when the familiar figure watching her disappeared from the curtained windows above. Her small set of keys rattled as she fumbled with the lock when suddenly the large door swung open and a small pink haired figure threw itself around her body in a tight hug.

Lightning stiffened, caught by surprise. Serah was still very much angry at her for missing her birthday and hadn’t spoken to her since. Immediately, Lightning became suspicious. Her sister couldn’t have forgiven her so easily. Serah wanted something.

“Serah,” she nearly shouted. Lightning reached around her back and pried her sister’s hands off her body. She held the younger girl at arm’s length and searched her features for any traces of anger. Instead, all she saw was hurt.

Serah rolles her eyes and yanked her wrists free of her sister’s vise grip, then marched back into the house. Lightning followed, defeated. She trudged through the foyer, past the winding staircase, and into the kitchen where she was faced with a tabletop full of her personal favourite dishes.

“Glad you could make it this time.” Serah offered a small, forced smile and took her seat at the table. Lightning wasn’t fooled. Dysley never insisted on an early day’s end unless Serah somehow became involved.

“You called Jihl. Why?” Lightning took her own seat at the table, arms folded and eyes narrowed at her younger.

“I needed you home today.” Lightning softened her gaze at the weak tone.

“I have a cell phone, Serah.” Serah raised an eyebrow skeptically, the silent accusation clear. But you never answer it!

Lightning rolled her eyes, determined not to have yet another argument over a stupid device.

“I told you not to speak with her unless it’s an emergency.” Lightning tensed. “Is there an emergency, Serah?”

“No, everything’s fine,” Serah spat. “I’m sorry. I won’t call her again.”

Lightning nodded, convinced Serah meant it. She helped herself to a slice of Serah’s homemade pie. It was her mother’s recipe.

The two ate in silence and Lightning felt the tension dissipate from the room as she watched Serah eat. The younger girl was her life, her everything. She couldn’t be the sister Serah wanted her to be and it pained her, but she made a promise. Lightning Farron honoured her promises.

For a moment, she truly believed all her wrongs could be righted when Serah flashed a nervous smile, but her brief moment of respite crumbled to ashes when the younger girl’s next words set her blood ablaze.

“I’m getting married.” Serah wiped the crumbs off her face with a napkin.

“Excuse me?!” Lightning choked.

“Snow proposed and I said yes,” Serah explained, unbothered by her sister’s animosity. She didn’t expect Lightning to behave any less, however her own calm demeanor only served to further upset the raging woman opposite her as she offered more details.

An ear splitting boom echoed through the hollow abode when clenched fists met the wooden tabletop.

“You expect me to believe you quit school and Snow pops the question?! Full points for originality,” she shouted. “I won’t allow you to leave school, and that’s final.” If looks could kill, Serah would have died on the spot. Lightning removed her fists from the table to find small cracks along the wooden length. “Tch.”

“I don’t have to become a teacher, Claire! I can get a job, I can help you! Besides, the tuition…” Serah finished meekly.

“Is that what all this is about? Serah, I don’t need your help! I’m handling things just fine, and you don’t have to worry about tuition, I said I’d take care of it!” Her heart drummed violently in her ears and she fought to subdue the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. When had Serah gotten so stubborn?

“I’ve made up my mind, Claire. I’m marrying Snow.” Serah shoved her seat back and stood to face Lightning. “You’re my sister; you’re not supposed to be pushing me away!” she shouted.

Lightning blinked back surprise when her sister’s smaller fists met the table with nearly as much force as her own. Despite the tears trailing down her face, Serah’s voice remained hardened and she showed no other signs of weakness. She was serious.

It was unlike her sister to be so rash and careless. It wasn’t the Serah she grew up with… it wasn’t the Serah she was fighting for.

There had to be another explanation.

“Serah, are you pregnant?” Lightning growled.

“Wh- what?!” the younger girl stuttered, taken aback by the sheer ridiculousness of the assumption.

“That’s why you’re doing this, isn’t it? I AM GOING TO KILL VILLIERS!”

Lightning wasn’t sure when or how she wound up standing on her front porch but she could faintly register smaller fists hammering against her chest and pleading screams as Serah did everything in her limited power to keep her from leaving. Lightning felt her fists clench and muscles tense. Her fury driven adrenaline rush goaded her to annihilate anything and anyone who stood between her and the man Serah was seeing – at least until she could maul him for all she was worth.

“Claire, please,” Serah begged. Lightning felt hands grasp either side of her face and her attention was slowly drawn downward to familiar pleading eyes. “I am not pregnant,” Serah said slowly, emphasis placed on every word. “Snow and I haven’t done anything.”

Serah watched the murder disappear from her sister’s savage eyes as they reverted back to unreadable icy orbs. Lightning stepped back into her home and waited for Serah to follow her in before she whirled around and said the only thing she could think of in her indignant state.

“Get out of my house!” she snarled. “And my _name_ is _Lightning_.”

The look she received from her younger counterpart was a mixture of hurt and shock. Usually, Lightning would have given life and limb to erase such a look off her dear sister’s face, but she was too angry to care. A part of her was even somewhat satisfied her spiteful demand elicited the hurt.

“But sis…” Serah sobbed. Lightning turned her back with gritted teeth. Her sister didn’t understand the mistake she was making and it was her duty as Serah’s guardian to make her realize that. Serah needed to know the consequences before she actually lived them. She could never survive alone without Lightning.

Lightning waited a moment for her emotions to simmer before sparing a glance over her shoulder, sparing lectures ready to roll off her tongue.

But Serah was already gone.

* * *

 

Her head hung heavily on her shoulders when the jingle of bells resounded through the warm, dimly lit bar. It had been a busy night and with closing hour fast approaching, Fang was all too eager to take her leave.

Disappointment quickly turned into thrill when a familiar head of pink hair lumbered to an empty seat at the bar. Dismal zircon eyes met hers and her breath hitched. How long had she been waiting for this encounter?

Long enough, Pinky.

“Excuse me?” the woman asked, unimpressed.

Fang took a step back, almost defensively. The woman had a threatening air about her.

“What did you just call me?” Her eyes narrowed. “And took me long enough to do what?” she asked again.

Fang winced. She hadn’t meant to voice anything, but the weeks she spent mourning the absence of the woman in front of her had left her mind in shambles.

“Nothing,” she answered hastily, unsure of what was actually said.

“Tch, whatever,” the woman spat before looking away.

Fang squared her shoulders and inched closer, hurt the other woman didn’t seem to recognize her.

“What can I get for ya?” she asked, slightly bitter.

Pale hands patted down empty pockets before the other woman seemed to deflate with a frustrated sigh. Fang was all too familiar with such a scheme. Her days as Eden’s street rat wasn’t old news.

A beautiful woman, especially one not bothered to give the time of day, was the perfect lure for tenders. This one was troubled and classy; someone so distraught that money was no longer a factor in determining which drink was best to drown away sorrows. Then they introduce you to the bait.

“I left my money at home.”

_Bingo._

Fang had tried almost every trick in the book during her darker days on Cocoon. The only difference being people never asked for her time of day.

She offered a winning smile. The other woman seemed in dire need of a friend, so Fang did the one thing she knew her own would do for her. She reached under the counter and snatched two small glasses and a bottle of Lebreau’s finest whiskey off the back shelf.

“It’s on me,” she winked.

Fang filled the glasses and offered one to her new patron. The woman paused, lips thinned, then revealed a small smile as she reached for the glass. The hesitation sent a chill down Fang’s spine.

The woman had her fun. Now it was Fang’s turn to drop the bait.

“If,” Fang said before the woman could grab hold of her drink. “You tell me your name.”

Fang removed her hand and was thrown a sideways glance. The woman tossed her head back and swallowed the liquid, wincing as it burned her throat on its way down.

“Lightning,” she whispered.

Fang peered out the window. The weather was calm, but chilly, like any other night.

“I don’t see any,” she shrugged.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” the other woman said pointedly.

“Oh? Then what did you mean then, Pinky?” Fang asked before she could stop herself.

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously at the offending nickname and Fang felt an urge to take a step back again. But she held her ground.

“My name is Lightning,” she answered with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh.” Fang felt the heat in her cheeks as she flushed with embarrassment, but smiled when Lightning turned away to stifle a laugh.

Lightning…

“What’s so funny?” Lightning asked.

“It’s beautiful,” Fang answered in earnest. Lightning spared her another fleeting glance.

“It flashes bright, then fades away. It can’t protect. It only destroys,” she whispered.

Fang rolled her eyes, marginally irritated her attempts to make decent conversation with Lightning had been anything but smooth.

“I meant your name,” she tried again, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “Your name is beautiful.”

Lightning’s eyes met Fang’s, wide with surprise.

“Some people hate it,” she stated, Serah in mind.

Fang slid her own glass toward Lightning, unsure why she filled two, and Lightning took it gratefully.

Lightning was different. She wasn’t talkative; willing to boast about her successes and lie about her failures like many others who lived on Cocoon. She may have been diminutively arrogant, but she wasn’t vain. Lightning was intriguing at the very least.

“Do you hate it?” Fang asked.

If Lightning was surprised by the question, she didn’t show it. She thought for a long while before finally answering.

“No,” she breathed. “I don’t. It’s a part of me, how can I bring myself to truly hate it?”

Fang made to pour another shot, but was stopped by a hand placed atop the glass.

“Won’t you get in trouble?” Lightning asked, a ghost of a smile lightening her features.

Fang shook her head no.

“My boss is cool, trust me,” Fang chuckled. Trust me… Why should she?

Lightning nodded. “Okay, fill me another.”

And for the next quiet hour, Fang filled glass after glass for the silent brooding woman until there was nothing left to pour. No words were exchanged, only small smiles when their eyes met and nodded thanks when Fang poured yet another.

Lightning was comfortable with the silence, but there was something she had to ask. It had been on her mind ever since she walked through the door and laid eyes on the familiar markings that peeked out from underneath rolled up sleeves.

“Have we met before?” she asked, unsure if the Pulsian woman even recognized her.

Fang gifted her with a beaming smile. “I’m hurt it took you this long to remember.”

Lightning returned her smile, albeit a fainter one. “There was nothing to remember… because I never forgot.”

“Well the name’s Fang, in case you’ve forgotten,” she joked. Lightning scowled at the jab. “Oerba Yun Fang.”

Fang laughed heartily when Lightning attempted to repeat her name, embarrassed at having forgotten.

“Err-bah Yun Fang?” Lightning flushed. Fang’s accent was… nice. She wondered what her name would sound like rolling off the Pulsian’s tongue…

“That’s close enough,” Fang chuckled.

The last customer aside took his leave and Fang ambled over to clear his booth. She returned to Lightning finishing up a call on her communicator, looking a tad flushed under the dim lighting.

“My ride will be here soon, I’ll be able to pay you then,” Lightning winced at the empty whiskey bottle.

Fang felt panic rise through her chest. It was miraculous she was able to meet Lightning after weeks of searching, and it would take another one for it to happen again. But if Vanille had taught her anything about miracles…

“When can I see you again?” Fang blurted.

Lightning bit her lip in surprise and remained silent. This time her lengthy pause did more than send a chill down the Pulsian’s spine.

Fang’s sweaty palms made up for the dryness in her mouth as she anxiously waited for an answer. Had she sounded too desperate? Lightning, though quiet, was one of the rare polite Cocoonians, but was that all it was? Was Lightning just being polite?

Her doubts were silenced when Lightning flashed the widest smile she’d seen from her all night.

“I’ll be at the stadium this Saturday if you want to come by,” she offered. Bright lights illuminated the bar from outside and Lightning stepped off the stool. “I’ll be right back.”

Fang shuffled anxiously as she waited for Lightning to return. She scanned the bar for something to busy herself with when the door opened and Lightning walked in again; this time equipped with rolls of money in her hands.

Lightning placed the items on the counter in front of Fang. There was a square, laminated card among the bills with a black lanyard attached to it.

“I have to go.”

Fang bristled. Lightning didn’t have to go anywhere if she didn’t want to.

“Thanks,” she called after the retreating woman. Fang looked down and her eyes widened. “Lightning, wait!” She didn’t need to spare a second glance at the bills to know there was much more than was owed.

Lightning stopped and turned, looking smug and amused.

“There’s too much,” Fang finished lamely.

Lightning just smirked before she closed the door behind her.

A sharp pain in her palms caught Fang’s attention and she looked down to see her fists clenched tightly around the crisp paper bills.

It had finally happened. The woman Fang had been all too eager to meet again, the face without a name that haunted her thoughts and dreams, the source of the amalgam of emotions she couldn’t even _begin_ to sort through, had answered her thoughts and prayers.

Fang had a name and she had answers… and maybe even a friend.

But Lightning still drove her crazy.


End file.
